This is my face. See my laugh lines? I've earned them from a life time of smiling. They're made up of bad jokes (Why won't cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny!), inappropriate comments, shows like "The Office" and "Saturday Night Live" with my family, (Remember the bass-o-matic?) Adam Sandler movies with my friends, watching Quinn & Spencer dance to the theme song from 'Olivia', pretty much anything Quinn says, watching Spencer run and a billion other funny things that I've been lucky enough to be a part of.
See these crows feet? Those are from six hundred times I've forgotten my sunglasses and I've had to squint into the sun at the beach as the salty breeze cools my face and the waves curl into the shore. They come from hours spent pushing a swing in the summer sun at the playground and helping construct elaborate road systems and monster truck tracks with bright yellow trucks in the driveway, walks on the waterfront while we stop to examine every storm drain, funky looking bug and to smell every summer bloom.
See these freckles? Those were hard earned with long teen-aged summer afternoons, lazing on a lawn chair with Sun-in in my hair, discussing the various boys in our class or an upcoming teen dance at Happy Wheels. And before that, the dawn-til-dusk games of hide & seek or red rover, punctuated by pulling weeds in the garden or fishing for perch and pickerel with my father on Brewer lake. Or more recently, standing vigil over my littles at the town pool, always ready, watching for the slightest sign of distress.
See those bags under my eyes? Those I got from countless hours of rocking babies (and not so babies anymore) in the middle of the night, the sweet baby breath tickling the small hairs on my neck while I chased bad dreams away, soothed earaches or fevers or just a sad little "Rock, Mommy?" (I'm always a sucker for that one). Before babies the bags were from dancing all night or staying up until dawn talking with Chris, wishing for a few extra hours before the sun painted the sky with its brilliant announcement of daytime. Or sometimes, a book I just couldn't put down.
See my little double chin? That's from carrying two healthy boys to term in my forties while battling cravings for buffalo chicken and salted caramel anything. It's from years of birthday cakes, ice cream walks and cookouts. It's from my weakness for dark chocolate and my love of baking.
This is my face. I was born with it. I've earned it. No Botox or collagen can improve it so please stop telling me that it will.